


take me out (to the ball game)

by tony_starkrogers



Category: Marvel 616, Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (2012)
Genre: Fluff, Getting Together, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-22
Updated: 2018-09-22
Packaged: 2019-07-15 16:31:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,897
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16066991
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tony_starkrogers/pseuds/tony_starkrogers
Summary: “Take me out to the ball game, take me out with the crowd,” Steve sings, his shoulder bumping into Tony’s as he sways back and forth. “Come on, Tony, sing!”“I am a genius billionaire playboy philanthropist,” Tony protests around a mouthful of hot dog. “I do not sing.”Or, Steve and Tony go to a ball game. It all kind of snowballs from there.





	take me out (to the ball game)

“Take me out to the ball game, take me out with the crowd,” Steve sings, his shoulder bumping into Tony’s as he sways back and forth. “Come on, Tony, sing!”

“I am a genius billionaire playboy philanthropist,” Tony protests around a mouthful of hot dog. “I do not sing.” A droplet of grease trickles down his wrist and he wrinkles his nose and tucks his finger into his mouth. “Mmmphf, that’s the stuff,” he says appreciatively. 

He looks up to see Steve staring at him. “Please, Tony?” Steve asks, his stupid blue eyes wide and pleading, his plush lower lip sticking out in the barest hint of a pout that has no business being so damn adorable. Scratch that, _Steve_ has no business being so adorable, Tony decides, grateful for the privacy of his sunglasses as he appreciates the glorious sight of Steve in a skin-tight Dodger’s jersey that shows off his biceps to great effect. And Steve’s hair, tossed by the wind, and his eyes, which somehow look even bluer than usual in the bright sunlight, and the warmth of him, at once so close and too far away.

Tony swallows, trying to tell himself that the feeling swelling in his chest is simple heart burn. _That_ at least, he can deal with.

“No,” he says firmly, pointing at Steve, because even if _he_ knows that he would do anything for Steve, there’s no need to make it so ridiculously obvious to the rest of the world, Steve included.

Steve’s full-on pouting at him now, and Tony knows that he’s staring, but he can’t bring himself to care, too lost in visions of pulling Steve agains him and sucking on that plush lower lip.

“Come on, Tony,” Steve pleads, nudging Tony’s shoulder. “Everybody sings. Besides, it’s tradition!”

Tony grunts noncommittally, determinedly not looking at Steve, because if he looks at Steve, that’s it, he’s gone.

“Tony please,” Steve says, his voice low and intimate, and then his _hand_ is on Tony’s _thigh_ , and Tony shudders, torn between pushing Steve away and pulling him into his lap. Steve can’t know how he’s affecting Tony, can he? Tony sure hopes not.

“For me?” Steve asks, and Tony closes his eyes, sucks in a breath, memorizes the feel of Steve’s fingers against his thigh, because that’s all he’s likely to get.

“What the hell?” Tony says, tossing his hot dog aside.

“Buy me some peanuts and cracker jacks, I don’t care if I never get back,” Tony sings, and a smile spreads across Steve’s face like he can’t believe his luck, and yeah, it’s totally worth a little public humiliation to see Steve smile like that. Tony tugs Steve up with him and tries not to think of how right it feels, Steve’s fingers wrapped firmly around his own. 

When the song ends, Tony tries to pull his hand away, but Steve gives him this _look_ , full of heat and intent. Tony’s mouth goes dry and his pulse beats loud in his ears, and he has to look away when Steve rubs his thumb over the back of his hand, because his face is suddenly heating up for no reason at all, and he’s Tony Stark, blushing is one of the things he just doesn’t do.

Steve seems to notice, the bastard, from the way his smile goes soft and his eyes crinkle at the edges. Tony bites his lip to keep from smiling, and he keeps looking straight ahead, because he’s still going to watch the game, dammit, even if it does suddenly feels like they’re the only ones in the stadium.

Tony gives Steve’s fingers a definite squeeze, and he catches the edge of Steve’s pleased huff and the curve of a smile as he glances over, and it’s the same look that Steve had given him when Tony had been babbling on about shawarma after they saved the world, like tony is everything he never knew he wanted.

And eventually Steve gets drawn back into the game again, because it is baseball after all, and Steve is nothing if not a die-hard fan. So Steve watches the game, and Tony watches Steve, because Steve is amazing when he’s in his element like this. He really gets into it, gasping and cheering and booing along with the crowd. And when Steve catches Tony staring, he just grins at him. “What?” he asks, completely deadpan.

“N-nothing,” Tony stutters, when he’s really thinking _god, you’re gorgeous when you’re happy_ , and _I want to spend the rest of my life making you smile like that_ , and _I want to kiss that look from your lips._

“Sure Tony,” Steve says, but he doesn’t push, and _that_ , that’s one of the great things about Steve right there.

And then the crowd explodes around them, as the batter makes a spectacular play, and Steve leaps to his feet as the ball soars high into the stands, and Tony is right there with him, cheering as the batter runs the bases and his team spills onto the field, and it’s really quite infectious, this unbridled enthusiasm.

“They won!” Steve says, like he can’t quite believe it. “They won, Tony, did you see?” and that smile is back, and he’s _dazzling_.

“Yeah,” Tony says, and he knows he’s staring, but he can’t bring himself to care, not when Steve is staring right back, smiling like Tony is the best thing in his world.

Tony doesn’t know what Steve sees in him, but it must be something, because Steve gets this fiercely determined glint in his eyes and his tongue darts out to wet his lips, and he takes Tony’s head in his hands and leans in close.

And really, there’s only one response to that. Tony fists his hands in Steve’s jersey and surges up to meet him, and then they’re kissing openmouthed, Steve’s fingers tangling in Tony’s hair as he nips on Tony’s lower lip and coaxes Tony’s mouth open. Steve’s tongue is rough and perfect against his own, and Tony shudders against him as their lips slide together. Tony presses closer, and Steve tilts his head to deepen the kiss, and Tony pulls him in at the hips until they’e flush against each other and Tony can feel Steve’s heat all around him, against every line of his body. Tony hums appreciatively and runs his hands along Steve’s back, over his shoulders and his really remarkable biceps. 

Steve moans into his mouth and jerks against him, and Tony knows with a sudden certainty that there’s only one way this is headed, that they’re seconds away from hips rocking together and hands wandering beneath waistbands and under shirts, and for a moment, Tony is completely okay with this until he registers the sudden quiet that’s descending around them. 

Tony tears himself away and Steve chases his lips and _damn_ that’s gratifying. Tony bumps their noses together on a whim and Steve’s eyelashes flutter, and his cheeks are flushed, and he looks more than a little stunned.

Tony beams, because he just can’t help himself. “So, that was amazing,” he says conversationally, “and I’d really like to do that again sometime. But I think we have a bit of an audience.”

Steve frowns and blinks at him, and then he turns to look out at the sea of faces turned their way, at the crowd they’ve shocked into silence. A flush works its way up his cheeks and down his neck, and Tony’s half-baked fantasies of sleepy morning kisses and hands clasped tight against sweaty sheets and movie nights spent cuddling together on the couch flash before his eyes. _This is it_ , he thinks, _it’s over before it even started. Everyone I care about is always forced away in the end._

But Steve just takes in the scene, spots himself on the big screen where the cameras have zeroed in on them, and instead of pulling away and making platitudes and apologies, he simply gives the crowd a cheery wave. 

“Yeah, I see what you mean,” he says, smiling back at Tony, and god, he’s gorgeous. “Want to give them a real show?”

Tony stares at him, blinks, stares some more, not quite sure if he heard what he thought he heard. And really, he’s not sure what being gobsmacked is supposed to feel like, but he thinks it must be something like this. He huffs a laugh and shakes his head disbelievingly.

“You really are amazing, you know that, right?” Tony says, grinning at the cameras and tossing the crowd a jaunty salute. Tony hears the tittering, the questions, the snide comments, and he stiffens as cameras flash around them. He’s about ready to start throwing punches when Steve’s hand finds his and he startles, looking up at Steve as he threads their fingers together.

Someone wolf-whistles, and then a smattering of applause breaks out, and it just gets louder and louder, until the stadium is shaking with it, until Tony has to turn his smile into Steve’s shoulder.

“And honestly, I think we’ve given them enough of a show for now,” Tony says.

“Hmm, you’re probably right,” Steve replies consideringly. Then he glances at Tony and grins, bright and beautiful. “Want to go home so I can score a home run of my own?”

“Oh god,” Tony says, breaking into laughter despite the crowd. “You really are amazing, Rogers, you know that, right?”

He grabs Steve’s hand and pulls him through the crush of people and down the stairs, the briefcase suit in his other hand, all ready to go. 

“All right,” Tony says, stepping into the suit and reveling in the look on Steve’s face as the armor slides into place. He looks proud and amazed and maybe a little turned on, his pupils blown and his face flushed. Tony holds out his hand and Steve steps onto the footholds designed specifically for him and wraps his arms around Tony’s waist. 

“You’re amazing too, you know that, right?” Steve tells him, his eyes wide and earnest. “I don’t think we tell you enough.”

Tony blinks, stares, suddenly at a loss for words. “You... I...” he tries, before shaking his head and tucking his finger under Steve’s chin to draw him into another kiss, gentle and sweet. Their last kiss had been full of heat and fire, but this kiss... this feels like a new beginning, like they’re learning each other, like they’ve got all the time in the world. It feels like coming home. When they finally pull away, it’s in a gentle slide of lips catching, breath mingling, noses bumping as they take each other in.

Tony brushes Steve’s hair back from his forehead, his thumb soft on Steve’s temple. “Well, mister _home run_ ,” he says teasingly, “let’s get you home, shall we?”

“Home,” Steve agrees softly.

Steve shouts as they shoot up into the sky, his yell echoing Tony’s whoop of delight as they spiral through the air. Steve’s eyes are bright as he leans his head on Tony’s shoulder, as he moves a hand to rest on Tony’s armored chest, his fingers splayed around the reactor, just over his heart. 

Tony tightens his arms around Steve and smiles as the air whips past, the city stretching out for miles below, knowing that while the tower might be where they’re headed, they’ve already found their real home in each other.


End file.
